


097 - A.S.A.

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Fic inspired by the Catfish song A.S.A?”





	097 - A.S.A.

The night you met Van you were really very drunk. You had told your friends the goal of the party was to make out with as many people as possible. You had seen him across the room and your friend said he'd been tracking you all night. You made menacing eye contact, then disappeared into the kitchen. He followed, and you laughed as he told you stories about his band's tour. You said you liked his leather jacket, and the holes in his jeans. When he told you, "Oh, babe, probably think I'm going for that rockstar look, yeah? Nothin’ like that though. Just spent all my money on the tour van. Gonna wear these till they fall off, you know?" you knew you wouldn’t fuck him. He was too sweet. He was drunk and flirty, but he'd not asked you to find a bedroom with him. He was just too good for you, you thought. You watched as he typed his number into your phone and added a photo to the contact.

You had wasted a whole night of his life, making him follow you around a party with promises of smut hidden in looks and between laughs. You'd led him on, and even though he probably knew it was happening, he hadn't complained once. When the crowd at the party thinned, and everyone went out to bars and all night diners, you stayed back. You asked him what he thought was going to happen, and he said he didn't care. You kissed until your lips were bruised red. Before anything else could happen, you said goodbye and got into a waiting taxi. Too good for you.

The next morning you looked through all the mistakes you had made, all the text messages to ex-lovers. You found Van's picture, and looked at his bright blue eyes and thick long eyelashes. His tongue was sticking out and he looked happy. You made a mental note to never call him, to leave him alone.

For a while that is exactly what you did. Somehow your social world and his were collapsing in on each other though. All your friends suddenly knew his, and his were watching you with interest in their eyes. His name kept coming up in casual conversation, and even your tattoo artist asked you about him. "Heard you have a thing going with Van McCann," she said. You rolled your eyes and told her to mind her business. She chuckled and got back to work.

You had a date that went bad on a Saturday night. Your date said they really liked Lorde's new song, and from there it just got worse and worse. You drank more to drown out the sound of their voice, but went home with them anyway. You snuck out early in the morning unsatisfied and filled with familiar regret. Later in the day you realised they had posted a picture of you together on Instagram. You would have asked them to take it down, but that would have meant talking to them.

Around dinner time you were hungry and still in need of human contact. Your fingertips wanted to touch and your lips kept finding their way between your teeth. You flicked through all your contacts trying to make a good decision. Van's photo kept grabbing your attention. You gave in and called. He picked up quickly. 

"Hey!" he sounded too hopeful and you wanted to die.

"Hey Van,"

"What's up?"

"Nothing. What's up with you?"

He paused. "Not a lot. Just hanging out," he told you. There was music and voices in the background. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just a bit lonely. Was wondering what you were doing. If you're with friends, though-" you spoke slowly to make sure he had time to listen between the lines.

"No. It's not like that. It's just the people I live with. We can do somethin' if you want. What were you thinkin'?"

"I have a few ideas. Could you come pick me up?"

He did. When you climbed into the front seat of his car you were met with a cautious smile. You hugged him and let him kiss your cheek. He didn't ask where you wanted to go, but he pulled onto the highway and headed out of the main part of the city. You wound the window down and sung into the wind, your hair whipping wildly around. Van watched you.

"I had this shitty job before I quit to do the band thing proper. I found this place one day on a break," Van told you as he unbuckled his seat belt. He had pulled up to a dodgy looking bar just off the Mersey River. "They have a really good jukebox, and they do these fried cheese things that are mint." You grabbed his arm before he could open his door. He looked over at you, then let you pull him closer. Your fingers were in his hair, his hands around your hips, and your tongue wrapped around each other’s. Then, suddenly, he pulled away. "Wait. Y/N. I just… What…"

"I missed you, you know," you said quickly to stop him from asking questions.

"What?"

"Since the party. I've missed you,"

"Where were you last night?" he asked. Too late. You looked at him and he rubbed his face with his hands. He looked up at you. "No. I mean. I know you were with Jules. Saw the photo,"

"So?"

"So if you missed me why were you with someone else?"

"I was with someone else because I missed you?" you tried. Your voice didn't sound convincing, even to you. The lie, despite being just that and obviously so to both of you, worked. You kissed again, then went into the bar. You stayed for hours and had to catch a taxi home. You and Van crawled into your bed and had messy sex for the first time.

After that, it was almost like a proper relationship, except for the flirty messages between you and everyone else, and the occasional one night stands with anyone. Van stopped asking about them, and you stopped telling him. If you didn't talk about it, it was like it wasn't a thing. He could pretend you were in love with only him, and you could pretend he was okay with how much love you showed everyone.

The fucked up game lasted only two weeks before Van couldn't contain his emotions. You had spent the day in bed, laughing and smoking. As he watched you pull on your jeans and check your phone, he looked more discontent than usual.

"Chin up, babe," you said and kissed him.

"I just…," he started and you weren't pre-empting what he was going to say because you never thought he'd outright ask, "When we're together, do you think about the others? About Jules?"

"Van…"

"I know. I'm not… I know we're not a real couple," and even though it was true it hurt to hear out loud. You had no right to ask for more than that. "But I just wanna know how you feel about us? Like, if… If this is just how it's always going to be?"

You stood in the doorway and looked over at him, naked and tangled in white bed sheets. His brown hair curled in places and stuck up in others. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were hurt and hopeful in equal measures. It was only then as the album run out of song and the white noise of a crackling record played, you realised there were more similarity in your and Van's emotion than there were differences.

"I didn't mean for it to get this good," you whispered. It was the most honest thing you'd said to him and he knew it.

"Then stay," he replied quickly, trying to capitalise on your feelings. He sat up and held an arm out to you. "Stay and it can get better. I'm all you need. I'll be the best boyfriend you'll ever have, honest. We can-"

"Please, Van. Just… Save it, yeah?" you tried to backpedal; try to pretend you'd not just essentially admitting to being more than the friend with benefits.

"Y/N, you can keep doing this. Keep bouncing from person to person, and I'll never judge you for that. But you like me," he said 'like' with so much emphasis and desperation that you could have almost choked on it, "and you want this. Part of you does. We will be good together. Just give us a chance."

You could feel your heart start to beat faster. Blood washed around the circuit of your body faster too. Your breathing picked up, and your knees got shaky. Your physiology was preparing for movement, but your cognition hadn't caught up yet. Your brain hadn't decided between the front door or Van's arms. The white noise continued to crackle, and Van's bright fucking blue eyes continued to look at you. The clock in the kitchen was loud, and you listened as a second then two ticked by. You could have heard a pin drop, and could have cut the tension like a fucking cake. You stood on the cusp of two existences, two identities. How much did you want Van? Enough to give up the rest?

"Y/N?"


End file.
